Phantom's Mask
by Kurai Minoru
Summary: Behind his perfect facade, no one knew who he really was. "The Bible of Tennis", as he was known. But who was the real person behind his flawless persona? One person sets to find out. Warning: depressed Shiraishi. Rating for language and mature themes.


Phantom's Mask

**AN: **Don't know where I was going with this, but I was in a depressed slump when I wrote this so yeah. I don't know if it'll turn into romance or friendship or whatnot. Enjoy? Just rewrote it. Tell me if it's still really bad. ._.

**Warnings: **Shirashi-bashing; don't get me wrong, I love the dude, but he seemed like a good main character for this fic. Other warnings include severe depression. Do not, I repeat, do NOT read if you are easily influenced and is going to think deep about this stuff. Thinking too hard about this kind of ideal is bad for the heart and mind.

**Disclaimer: **Does not own Prince of Tennis.

Chapter One Begin~

I sighed; it had been a long day. All Kintarou did was bug me, challenging me to tennis matches, and Chitose doing nothing to help, instead, encouraging him. I had gotten nothing, absolutely nothing done today, and that lazy ass of a coach did not do his share of work either; he never did. Instead, he left all the paperwork to me, the captain.

_**Sigh.**_

Currently, I was walking home by myself. Vaguely, I remembered something like Kintarou going to the street courts to practice against hopefully sufficient opponents and Chitose going to supervise him.

_Kintarou is going to be sadly disappointed when he reaches those street courts. The people who play there are hardly mediocre._

Hmm, I also remember the other members of the team saying something about following them to watch them. Peace and quiet at last. Whenever Kenya and Zaizen argued, chaos was going to ensue. And then Kintarou would join in and then they would practically destroy the entire clubroom in a giant epic battle of some sort.

_Me alone, all by myself. Oh happy happy joy joy._

Soon, I reached home. Opening the front door, I stepped in and went into my room. I collapsed onto my bed, sighing for what seemed like the billionth time today.

_The same thing every single day. The same repetitive schedule._

This happened every single day since junior high. The same thing would repeat itself over and over again. Get up, do daily routines, go to school, do same routines, get back home, eat dinner, go to sleep, etc. In short, I could never escape the continuous motion called life. It was sucking me in its depths, drawing me in, and tantalizing me, towards the debt that all men shall one day pay. Quite frankly, it was depressing.

"Damn, I feel so pathetic."

Since when did these emotionless tears run down my face and dry themselves up? Since when did I have something to distract me from the woes of my life? Sure, I had parents and younger brothers, but, when did I become so detached to them? When did I start to feel that I was an intruder in their happy life? When did I create a mask that suppressed my true self underneath a perfect persona? Why?

Tears ran down my face in a never-ending cascade of crystalline salty drops. I could not do anything to stop it; now, I cried almost everyday.

_Very manly huh._

I snorted, and then laughed. If anyone had seen me this way, they really would've slapped me for thinking that way. _Enjoy life, _they all say. What do they know? I never told anyone about my daily crying episodes, although it would be nice to have some to talk to about it. But I didn't want it to be perceived as a weakness; I already thought about it that way. Meh… Lost in my musings, I was suddenly startled when there was a quiet knock at my door.

"Aniki, dinner's ready."

My younger siblings, the identical twins, called to me. Really adorable, actually.

"Alright, Hiroto, Susumu. I'll be down in a few minutes."

I could hear them trudging downstairs, Susumu generally being quiet, while Hiroto literally bounced off the walls, a pure glowing ball of energy and happiness. I smiled, while longing for my innocent childhood again. Too bad that once you grow up, you find out that the world is even harsher than you imagined…

"Buchou~ Play a match with me~"

Kintarou whined. I could feel a headache coming up. Rubbing my temples, I rummaged in some random drawers for some aspirin. Damn. They didn't have any. Not to mention that the peanut gallery wasn't helping one bit. Koharu and Yuuji were making lovey-dovey, WEIRD faces at each other, Kenya and Zaizen were arguing over which brand of music was better, Gin was being…well, Gin, and Chitose was just looking over the scene with barely-concealed amusement. And still, the forgotten vice-captain stayed forgotten… My impending frustration levels grew higher and higher until I could not bear anymore. I slammed my hands on the abused desk, efficiently silencing the latter, and stalked out of the room.

Well, after I left the room, the others proceeded to have a whispered discussion about me.

"Ne, don't you think buchou is very short-tempered these days?" Kintarou whispered. Well, not really whispered, but you get the idea.

"Well, he is paler, eating less than normal, but barely noticeable, and seems to be more abrupt and irritable. All this started a month ago."

Koharu's glasses gave off a weird glint, making Kintarou, Zaizen, and Kenya cringe from the perviness. They did not, I repeat, did NOT want to catch whatever strange disease Koharu had.

"Ehh? Really?"

Chitose was surprised; why hadn't he noticed all this earlier? After all, Shiraishi was his best friend. Sadly, he pondered, Saiki Kanpatsu no Kiwami (Pinnacle of Wisdom), could not predict the behavior of people. That was Atobe's specialty. He decided to go confront Shiraishi about this.

I sighed.

_Another ritualistic day today._

Quietly trekking through my overly large house in the suffocating silence, I chanced to sneak near the kitchen to have a daily snack. Hiroto and Susumu were not yet home from their daycare, it seemed. A good thing too, because I could hear raised angry voices from the kitchen. It seems like my parents were arguing again, probably about something trivial and not concerning me. In any case, I was the "perfect" son and they did not need to concern themselves seriously about my studies, although they did ask the occasional once or twice everyday during dinner.

_People who thought being "perfect" was the best thing they could possibly wish for, wish again. My life is naught but a complete lie. An empty lie, filled with promises of false happiness and wishes. Since when was the last time I felt truly happy?_

I trudged slowly upstairs; days ending like this really were the worst. Whenever okaa-san and otou-san argue like that, you would want to be a very far distance from them. I needed a break; a tennis break. Grabbing my gear and slamming the front door shut, I took off at a run towards the closest street courts, while only hoping that there might be someone there to distract me from my misery.

Chitose sighed. Where did Kintarou get all his energy? Chitose felt like an old man next to him. A beeping sound in his pocket made him reach down and look at the time.

_**Wow, I really lost track of time.**_

It was already 8:00 and Miyuki was going to nag when he got home. She didn't like it when her older brother stayed out late at god-knows-where. Exhaling a deep breath, he decided to saunter and take his time walking home. He was walking down a deserted empty road, the streetlights twinkling with little insects flitting around them. The familiar but faint sounds of solid thwacks of a tennis ball against a wall soon aroused his attention. Piquing his interest- who would still be practicing that late on a school night? He walked toward the source of the noise and was rewarded slowly by the louder smacks of the tennis ball against the wall and the faint ping of the gut on a tennis racquet. Before long, his line of vision was filled with quite an interesting sight, Shiraishi, hitting against the wall. He decided to stay put and observe quietly, from a distance. All seemed well, Shiraishi decided to take a break. But on closer inspection, all was not well. Shiraishi, THE Shiraishi who was the only sane one of their team, was crying? Chitose could not bear to look at his best friend, crying silently as if he gave up on the world, any longer.

I arrived at the tennis courts awhile back, and sadly, to my disappointment, there was not a soul there, not even a glimpse of a beginner either.

_Today really isn't my day…_

I decided to hit a few against the wall, but apparently, it did not work. I was still stuck in my own little world; moping and thinking depressing thoughts.

_Guess I won't be majoring in psychology when I get to college… I don't have a strong enough mind._

Man, even the familiar sounds of a tennis ball coming in contact with a hard, flat surface did not help. It just made it worse. I landed on the bench with a flump, towel over my bowed head. I clasped my hands together so tightly, that they turned white. _Plop, _went my tears against the surface of the concrete.

_When will this nightmare called life end?_

_Loneliness…_ Quite truthfully, I felt lonely. No one was there for me, not there for when I was sad, not there for when I was crying, not there for when I was happy, not there for anytime. The countless times that I couldn't share my happiness in winning, relieve my sorrow from something, bask in someone's presence, and share my feelings with someone, were unnamable in emotion. All I want is someone to be by my side. Was it too much to ask for?

I was so lost in my melancholy that I did not notice the soft, padded footfalls of sandal-wearing feet until it was too late. My head snapped back as I saw before me the person I least expected to be here. Sure, he might be a wildcat and wander around random places before going home, but Chitose was never one for stopping at a street court for awhile. And judging but the look on his face, he HAD been there for awhile, wordlessly examining everything that had just occurred. I was thankful that I had not said a word out loud, but still, I was screwed, to put it lightly. The look on his face was something that even I rarely saw. His eyes blazed like an inferno, the lines around his mouth were set in iron, but when he spoke, it was merely a whisper, one that was steel and could bind a raging lion.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on, Shiraishi?"

I was really in for it now…

To be continued~

Well, how did you like it? Do not think about this too hard; it's bad for the heart. Sigh, depressed and mad. I know I should've been working on my other fics, but I have no inspiration to write them and decided to start a new one. Sorry for all those waiting for updates on my other stories.


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